Getting to Know You
by FindingRainbows
Summary: Just what has John got himself into? This is going to be about John learning about/learning to live with Sherlock. Set after 'A Study in Pink'... hope you enjoy.
1. Organising?

**Disclaimer: I'm sure you've already deduced that these characters are not mine. **

**A/N This is really just a set up for a scene I would have liked to have seen between John and Lestrade that I am still attempting to write. Anyway, for now, it is the morning after the events in 'The Study in Pink'...**

John slowly opened his eyes. He lay still for a few seconds before a smile tugged at his lips and he began to sit up. He had done it. He had actually managed to have a proper night's sleep; no nightmares. Ironic, really, considering recent events. It was almost hard to believe that had all happened. What a mad few days it had been...

He swung his legs around and stood up, stretching out his arms as he did so. It was only then he noticed the noise coming from below his bedroom. It sounded like someone was moving furniture about and someone else was not entirely happy about this. John grabbed his dressing gown from a half-unpacked suitcase and headed towards the voices.

'Sherlock, you really ought to be more careful,' Mrs Hudson was holding a rescued lamp in her arms, 'you're making a mess.'

'Nonsense, Mrs Hudson, I know what I'm doing,' Sherlock said as he roughly shoved the coffee table further towards the window, knocking over a pile of books in the process. Mrs Hudson rolled her eyes and sighed.

'What's going on?' John asked as he entered the room.

'Oh, Doctor Watson, did you sleep well?' Mrs Hudson asked but she did not stop for an answer, 'Perhaps you can talk some sense into him. He almost broke this lamp. Moving things about so forcefully.'

'I'm organising the flat.' Sherlock stated and although he hadn't even looked at John yet, he added, 'You should get dressed, John. Lestrade wants us. Unfortunately, its tedious question and paperwork time...again.'

'Excuse me?' John hadn't quite got passed the part about Sherlock 'organising' the flat because glancing around, it looked even more chaotic than before; if that was possible.

Sherlock turned to look at John now. 'Lestrade needs our accounts of last night as soon as possible. Although, I suggest we don't fill him in on everything.' John nodded slowly at that last part as the full details of the previous night dawned on him. He had killed someone...

'Sherlock!' Mrs Hudson's sudden shout cut through John's thoughts, 'You little bugger! You have been in my flat!'

'What makes you say that?' Sherlock said coolly and calmly but John could see the beginning of a smirk forming on his face.

'Don't play the innocent- that skull did not make its own way back here from my kitchen cupboard.' Mrs Hudson was now pointing at the offending skull that was one again watching over the room from the mantelpiece.

'Oh, I don't know, Mrs Hudson...' Sherlock began.

'Do that again, young man, and I'll have you out on your ear!' Mrs Hudson plonked the lamp down in a manner which contradicted her earlier protectiveness of the item, turned and marched off out into the hall. She didn't go very far though before she decided to turn back. 'I'll have this back if you don't mind,' she said as she quickly swiped the skull and then left for good. There was silence for a moment.

'You broke into her flat?' John wasn't exactly asking a question because he already knew the answer. In fact, he was quite surprised at his own tone. He sounded like a parent who'd grown exasperated with their wayward child.

'I was rescuing my skull.' Sherlock just shrugged slightly and smiled, 'It seems I may have to mount another rescue later.'

'Sherlock, did you not just hear...' John started but Sherlock cut in as he began rummaging through a nearby box;

'Seriously, John, you should think about getting dressed. You'll gain quite the reputation if you show up at the yard like that. We can stop off afterwards and pick up the rest of your things. Of course, I need to go to the morgue first. There is a boiled hand that needs my attention... '

John rubbed his eyes and shook his head. Something told him life at 221b Baker's Street was only going to get more interesting. May be he should start writing that blog?

...


	2. Still time to run?

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

**A/N Still haven't got to the scene I wanted to see with John and Lestrade but I will ;) Thank you to those who reviewed etc. Hope you enjoy this next little bit... **

John returned to the living room showered and dressed. It seemed in his absence Sherlock had managed to tip over a chair, pull a curtain down and...was that the skull back on the mantelpiece?

'Sherlock!' John shouted.

'What is John? I take it you are appropriately dressed now?' Sherlock's response came from the kitchen so John stormed round the corner.

'Sherlock, how has the skull... What are you doing?' John was caught by surprise- Sherlock was, by the looks of things, about to drop an eyeball in the kettle. 'Don't put that in there!'

'Experiment.' Sherlock said simply as that was the only explanation and reason needed.

'Ok, Sherlock...' John sighed, 'We're going to have to discuss this.'

'Discuss what John? I need to do experiments.'

'Yes, but I want to be able to make coffee, you know, without having to worry about body parts.'

'Fine.' Sherlock dropped the eyeball back in a nearby beaker and pulled off the gloves he was wearing in a rather frustrated manner. 'I'll just have to borrow Mrs. Hudson's kettle later.'

'No, no...Sherlock...' John sounded exasperated again. 'Listen, you can't keep going into Mrs. Hudson's flat, ok? And please try and be careful where you put things during your experiments.'

Sherlock didn't respond as he put on his coat and scarf and John could tell that he hadn't really been listening. John shook his head. Was it too late to make a run for it? Did he really want to live with Sherlock Holmes?

'Right, come on. The sooner we answer their questions the better.' Sherlock stated as he set off down the stairs.

John stood watching him leave but he was still too lost in his own thoughts to move and follow. He was about to go Scotland Yard after helping solve a crime and all because he had been introduced to a man, who, amongst other things, stole skulls and put eyeballs in kitchen appliances. He remembered telling his therapist that 'nothing happened' to him. He had been so lonely and depressed with life but that seemed like such a long time ago now. He smiled. Yes, John decided, he did want to live with Sherlock Holmes. Even if that meant he would probably end up needing more therapy in the future.

'Sherlock! You and that bloody skull...' John was snapped back to the moment as he heard Mrs Hudson shouting from downstairs.

'Mrs Hudson, I...Ow!' It seemed Mrs Hudson was quite capable of standing up for herself as John wondered whether she had hit Sherlock with something, given his reaction.

'John, for goodness sakes, hurry up!' Sherlock cried out.

John left the flat laughing.

...


	3. Different?

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N : At last, John and Lestrade...**

They had arrived at Scotland Yard, after a taxi ride throughout which Sherlock had been typing rather ferociously on his mobile phone. He had only stopped every now and again and when he did his eyes darted from side to side as if he was deep in thought. John had planned to use the journey to ask questions and may be find out more about the man or at least to try and set some ground rules out for the flat; after what he had seen during the morning, John had come to the conclusion that he would probably have to get used to acting like a parent sometimes when dealing with Sherlock. However, instead of doing either of those things, he found himself watching Sherlock in quiet fascination. Just what did go inside that man's head?

It turned out that Lestrade was in a meeting and that all questioning and paperwork was to be sorted by an irritated looking Sally Donovan. For his part, John hadn't got much to do, considering he wasn't about to tell the whole truth about what he had done, so he found himself waiting for Sherlock to finish up. He was sat in the canteen, he'd asked if he could take advantage of, after his stomach had given him a reminder that he hadn't eaten breakfast.

'Doctor John Watson, isn't it?' John looked up and found he was being greeted by DI Lestrade, 'Sorry, we weren't exactly introduced properly yesterday, were we?'

John smiled. 'No, we weren't really. But, yeah, it's John.' John shook hands with the other man.

'DI Lestrade. You here with Sherlock?' Lestrade asked as he moved to sit down opposite the man, at the table.

'Just waiting for him to finish up. He's giving his statement about last night.'

'Ah, yes...I'm guessing he wasn't too happy about having to do that with Donovan.' Lestrade said more to himself than John but John responded,

'Sergeant Donovan didn't seem too happy with the arrangement either.'

'I'll bet. Probably have to hear all about it later.' Lestrade sighed. There was a moment of silence as they both took sips of their coffee.

'Sorry about yesterday.' Lestrade stated suddenly.

'What...'

'The 'drugs bust'. We weren't aware that Sherlock was sharing the flat.'

'Oh...well, technically, I hadn't moved in then.'

'But you are going to?'

'Looks that way.'

There was a small pause before Lestrade said, 'He's different around you.'

John didn't quite know how to react to that statement and so he sat and waited to see if Lestrade would expand on it but instead he asked another question.

'Can I ask? When...how did you meet Sherlock?'

'Old friend introduced him to me, two days ago. We were both looking for a flatmate.'

'Two days?' Lestrade sounded surprised. He was. It had been a while since they had called Sherlock in for help on a case and he didn't always know what the detective got up to between cases. He had thought that given the way they were around each other that Sherlock had known John for longer than two days.

'Yeah, probably the weirdest two days I've ever had.' John laughed lightly.

'Well, that's Sherlock.'

'So should I learn to expect more 'drug busts'? John asked with a trace of amusement in his voice.

'Not if you can make sure Sherlock hands over evidence.'

'I'll do my best. Got to stop him from stealing skulls first.'

'Excuse me?'

'Oh, nothing.'

Lestrade took another sip of coffee and studied the man in front of him for a moment. No offense to John but he certainly didn't look anything out of the ordinary. In fact he came across just like a normal bloke but somehow this normal bloke had managed to do the impossible and become what definitely seemed to be a friend of Sherlock Holmes. He hadn't meant the next words he spoke to come out aloud but they did, 'Sherlock doesn't have friends.'

John's shoulders seemed to drop and he appeared to exhale in annoyance. 'So I keep being told.'

'Sorry,' Lestrade felt strangely guilty now, 'He is different around you.'

There was that statement again and John still didn't know how to respond. Was Sherlock different around him? He really wouldn't know. Instead of contemplating this further, John decided he would take the opportunity to ask Lestrade something that had taken him somewhat by surprise the day before and he had pondered on since;

'Sherlock does...did drugs?' The question came out quietly and seriously and John noticed a mix of emotions seemed to wash across Lestrade face; sadness, anger, tiredness and was that guilt?

'I think...' Lestrade began before pausing, as if trying to find the right words, 'I think he needs to...needed to escape from that mind from time to time...people around here say that they dislike Sherlock and that may be true but while most say it's because he's a psychopath...or sociopath or whatever...I think it's actually because they're jealous.'

'Jealous?' John wasn't quite sure he was following Lestrade's point.

'Yeah...they train for years to get a job here and then some man wanders in and puts them all to shame within a few minutes.'

'But... you're not jealous?'

'No... I think Sherlock's genius is often a curse as much as it is a gift.'

John found himself nodding. He had often heard people say that there is a fine line between genius and madness and Sherlock was probably walking that line every day. It was a wonder then how Sherlock didn't seem more threatening. Well, perhaps he did to some people. Another reason why Sherlock didn't make friends, John thought.

'Right, well, I better be getting back up to the office.' Lestrade stood up and held his hand out to John again, 'I'm sure I'll be seeing you in the future.'

John shook Lestrade's hand. 'We'll see how it goes.'

Lestrade smiled at John. He didn't know why but he had a feeling that John wouldn't be parting with Sherlock's company for quite some time yet. May be this was the first step towards Sherlock becoming a good man?

John watched Lestrade leaving, thinking over what the man had told him, and he too knew, deep down, that he wouldn't be leaving Sherlock's side anytime soon.

...


	4. A shoe?

_**A/N Yeah, I know, I haven't written in while, what of it? ;) No, I'm sorry, especially as so many of you have kindly added me to your alerts and such- thank you. The only excuse I have is that I have had to do some writing for the drama group I help to run and things were getting confused in my head. **_

_**[I posted the wrong version of this first- the differences as very small but it bothered me so..Thanks to everyone who has reviewed etc too.]**_

John arrived back at Baker Street before Sherlock. They had originally gone to Bart's together, after finishing up a Scotland Yard, with Sherlock stating that he merely wanted to update some results on an experiment with a hand before they went and collected the rest of John possessions- not that there was much left to pick up but he did have to hand keys back and such.

However, John quickly realised that Sherlock in a laboratory was like a child in a sweet shop, albeit a very intense and focused child, and so he decided that instead of rushing the detective, he would just go and sort out his things alone.

And so he found himself laden with a few bags struggling through the door of his new flat.

"Do you need a hand, love?" Mrs Hudson seemed to appear from nowhere and momentary caught John by surprise. Where was she while he was navigating the stairs?

"Er...I...No, no, I'll manage, thanks," John said, sighing with relief when finally got the door to open fully with his shoulder so he could swing the bags inside. He walked over to the nearest clear surface and placed them down.

"Sherlock not about?" Mrs Hudson asked following John into the flat.

"No, he's...working," John stopped and turned to look at his new landlady, "Did you want him? I can pass on a-"

"No, no, it's alright," the landlady shook her head. "You look tired. How about I pop the kettle on?" She disappeared around the corner into the kitchen before waiting for an answer.

"Er, yeah, that would be nice, thanks," John said, suddenly feeling tired despite his restful night's sleep, "then I'll get started on straightening things up, I think."

John cast a glance around the living area and scratched the back of his head. Truth be told, he had no idea where to start. Most of the possessions in the living room were currently Sherlock's so by rights he shouldn't really touch them at all but something told John that if he didn't move them, they'd be living in this mess for a considerable amount of time. It helped that the majority of items were in boxes because he needn't empty those, he could just stack them a little more neatly. Although, there were a fair few miscellaneous things lying around that John wasn't sure he wanted to go near let alone touch.

"Do you take sugar?" Mrs Hudson shouted from the kitchen.

"No, thanks," John replied.

"You should let Sherlock clear this mess, Doctor Watson," Mrs Hudson appeared around the corner, holding out a cup for John.

"Call me John, please," John said kindly, taking the cup, "thanks."

"I mean it. He has to learn," Mrs Hudson stated.

John let out a small laugh, "What am I letting myself in for Mrs Hudson?"

Mrs Hudson smiled and took a sip of tea. "Oh, he's an odd one," she sighed fondly. John cast her a sideways glance and smiled. He thought back to his discussion with Lestrade and maybe, yes, Sherlock didn't have friends but he certainly had people who cared for him.

The door banged open downstairs. "Speak of the devil," Mrs Hudson said. "I'll pour out another cup of tea."

It was a few moments before Sherlock appeared through the door. He didn't speak but gave John a sort of nod before taking off his coat and hanging it on the back of the door.

"Here you are, Sherlock," Mrs Hudson said, holding a cup of tea out in front of him, "Just this once mind. Not your housekeeper."

"I don't mind, you know," Sherlock said taking the cup from Mrs Hudson but clearly talking to John.

"Huh? What?" John said confused.

"You can move my things. Just be careful," Sherlock stated.

John looked at the detective feeling like his mind had been read. He wasn't as disconcerted as he thought he should have been though.

"Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson gave him a light slap on the arm, "You can move your own things. Honestly. Now, I best get off." She moved to the door. "You boys need to go shopping- unless you're planning on eating those eyeballs?" she said giving Sherlock a pointed look before making her descent down the stairs.

John watched as Sherlock stepped over to the desk in order to turn his laptop on.

"So..." John began.

"I said; you can move things if you want," Sherlock repeated.

"Er...yeah, alright, except it's your stuff and well..." John bent down to pick something up, "I mean, what is this?"

"That's a shoe."

"A shoe? Sherlock, this is not a..." John took a closer look at the item in his hand and although it was mutilated, he began to see that it had indeed started life as a shoe, "What did you do to it?"

"I was testing the effects of acids on the leather."

"Right. Of course you were." John shook his head. His brain suddenly decided that he had to get out of the flat for a while in order to remain sane; "You know what? I think, I'll go and take care of the food situation," he said dropping the 'shoe' down to the floor.

"I need nicotine patches. And batteries. Of all sizes. My card is in my wallet." Sherlock didn't even bother to look up from his computer screen. John found himself staring at him. "What?" Sherlock asked, feeling the stare and glancing at the doctor. When John didn't respond he continued, "Oh, my pin-number is 4322."

"Sherlock, you..."

"I hardly think you are going to steal from me, John," Sherlock drawled with a smirk.

John sighed, "That's not...I wasn't...you...you know what, never mind. Where's your wallet?"

"Coat pocket."

John moved to retrieve the wallet and leave the flat. He turned in the doorway, "Tidy the flat, Sherlock."

"4322, John"

John rolled his eyes and closed the door.

...


	5. Sandwiches?

_**A/N Sorry, it's a short one...short and sweet though ;) Enjoy. Once again thanks to everyone who had added me to alerts/reviewed etc. **_

_**(Weird little fact about me: I eat breakfast/dinner/tea and having to use the word 'lunch' actually makes me cringe. Sherlock should be northern ;) )**_

John hadn't noticed Sherlock had entered the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked.

"Making dinner," John answered, jumping slightly.

"Dinner?"

"Yeah, you've been asleep for while," John confirmed, "I did make you some lunch but I didn't want to wake you."

"What?"

"I made you some sandwiches for lunch. They are in the fridge if you want to eat them or you can leave them and have some pasta now," John gestured towards the pan which he was adding sauce to.

"You made me sandwiches?" Sherlock sounded confused. John stopped what he was doing and looked over at Sherlock who was now staring into an open fridge.

"Well, yeah," John shrugged, "Oh and Mrs Hudson and I straightened up some paperwork so I am now officially your... are you ok?"

Sherlock shut the fridge door, "What? Oh, I'm fine."

"Ok. Anyway as I was saying, I'm now your flatmate. Officially," John said with a smile.

"That's...good." Sherlock sounded like he hadn't registered what John had said; he still sounded confused. John was beginning to worry.

"Sherlock, are you sure you're alright?"

Sherlock glanced up at him and seemed to gather himself. "I'm fine, John," he repeated.

"Right," John wasn't convinced but decided not to push. "Your nicotine patches and batteries are on the side, by the way."

Sherlock located the bag and fished out the nicotine patches and then started to make his way out of the kitchen but before he left completely, he turned back and said "Thank you." It was quiet but loud enough for John to hear. It was also said in such a tone that John knew he wasn't just being thanked for the shopping. It all clicked into place then; Sherlock wasn't used to people making him lunch without him asking. He wasn't used to being included in people's thoughts like that. He really wasn't used to friendship.

John sighed and reached for two plates. "Sherlock, come back and get your pasta!"

...


	6. What's that noise?

_**Disclaimer update: Still not mine.**_

_**A/N Thank you to you lovely readers who review etc. Hope you enjoy this... **_

The second night that John spent at Baker Street was not as restful as the first for two reasons. The first reason was one he was prepared for; despite what Mycroft had said about his supposed PTSD, there were still horrific memories etched into John's mind and so a nightmare, while unwanted, wasn't all too surprising. There was comfort to be taken in the fact that this nightmare was far less vivid than previous though and John was soon able to fall back to sleep.

Unfortunately, the second reason for the lack of restfulness made itself known about an hour later; it was a loud, scratchy, strangled cat kind of noise coming from downstairs. John was used to sleeping in some pretty noisy conditions but this was a new, definitely unwanted, cringe-worthy sound so he got up to see if he could make it stop.

"What are you doing?" John asked from the entrance to the living room.

"Playing the violin," Sherlock said, all innocently.

"It's 3AM."

"I did tell you that I play the violin."

"It's 3AM."

"Time is irrelevant."

"It's really not."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Probably because you slept all afternoon," John mumbled as he started to make his way into the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

"To get a drink of water."

"I'll have a cup of tea."

John rolled his eyes, "You can make that yourself."

"You made me sandwiches."

"That was different," John said returning to the living room and sighed as he watched Sherlock resume playing, "Besides, I don't think you need caffeine." He rubbed his head. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock stopped and turned around to face John once more, eyebrows raised.

"Look, if you insist on playing the violin, _at 3AM_, couldn't you at least play something a little...well, a little less frantic and 'Flight of the Bumblebee' and more..."

"I wasn't playing 'Flight of the Bumblebee."

"I know, I was-"

"It wasn't anything like 'Flight of th- "

"Sherlock!" John snapped. Sherlock blinked. "Just play something quiet, ok? Or, preferably, read a bloody book. I'm going back to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"It's morning now, John."

For a split second John considered throwing Sherlock's violin out of the window but instead he took a deep breath and made his way up the stairs.

John didn't hear the violin again that night. When he got up at 9AM, he found Sherlock asleep on the sofa with a book on his head. John overlooked the title of the book being 'Planning the Perfect Murder' and smiled.

...


	7. What is that?

John finished up eating breakfast and was about to head out to buy a paper when a knock at the door made the task unnecessary.

"Good morning, love. I've brought Sherlock's papers up." Mrs Hudson had an armful of newspapers, which John reached over and took off her, "Is he still asleep?"

"Hmm, sofa" John gestured over to his flatmate.

"Oh... did you two fallout?" Mrs Hudson asked quietly following John into the kitchen.

"What? No." John rolled his eyes at Mrs Hudson's assumptions; he had a feeling he'd just have to get used to it. He put the papers down and scanned through them. "What does he order all these for?"

"He likes to see if anything interesting is going on."

"Interesting?"

"Well, Sherlock finds it interesting. I keep telling him he shouldn't get quite so excited about murders but-"

"He checks the newspapers for murders?" John shook his head and wondered why he was surprised, "Of course, he does."

"Not just murders. He takes other cases. From all sorts of people."

"So he doesn't just annoy the police then?"

"No, our Sherlock will annoy anyone he chooses to." Mrs Hudson smiled and John laughed.

"What about you?" John asked as his chuckle ended.

Mrs Hudson frowned slightly, "What do you mean, dear?"

"How did Sherlock start annoying you?"

Mrs Hudson dropped her head and John instantly remembered what Sherlock had said about her husband and knew he'd asked something he shouldn't have done. "I'm sorry, I didn't...I shouldn't have..." John started.

Mrs Hudson interrupted lightly, "Its fine, John, really." She took a breath, "Sherlock was..."

"Sherlock was, what?" John and Mrs Hudson both turned abruptly to look at Sherlock who was stood, eyebrows raised, at the corner of the kitchen.

"Oh...Sherlock was supposed to be helping me sort out the interweb on my computer," Mrs Hudson covered quickly although she was telling the truth; Sherlock said he would lend a hand weeks ago.

"Oh,' Sherlock responded with a certain hint of guilt in his voice and in the expression on his face. John smiled; he doubted not many more people than Mrs Hudson could make Sherlock react that way.

"Why don't you go down there now?" John suggested as he began to start making some tea.

Sherlock frowned at him but Mrs Hudson had already broken out into a large smile, "That would be wonderful, Sherlock. I'll see you after you've got yourself dressed...and try to eat some breakfast. Actually, I'll go and put some bacon on and then I can make sure you eat. Be ready in 30 minutes, young man."

Mrs Hudson left with a bounce in her step. Sherlock sat down at the table with a groan.

"You've just been offered a free cooked breakfast, Sherlock. Stop looking as though someone has died."

"Hmm..." Sherlock began flicked through the newspapers, "Let's hope someone had died."

John flinched at his new flatmates words but swallowed back any retort and placed a cup down on the table.

"What's that?" Sherlock asked.

"A cup of tea," John replied, "It's yours."

"No," Sherlock started firmly, "What is that?" He finished by pointing one of his long slender fingers accusatorily at the contents of the cup.

John faltered, "A tea bag."

Sherlock was staring at John now like he had two heads, "Why is it still in the cup?"

"What does it matter?" John shrugged.

"Take it out."

"You take it out."

"You never leave a tea bag in the cup, John. It's wrong."

"So...take it out."

"You shouldn't have left it in."

"Sherlock..."

"Anyway, tea tastes better when it is made in the pot."

"There was something in the pot."

Sherlock paused. Silence fell for a second before he asked, "You didn't throw it out did you?"

"No but..."

"Has it turned purple?"

John rolled his eyes and turned to reach for the teapot, "Just take a look at...whatever it is yourself."

Sherlock took the pot, lifted the lid and then jumped up in excitement at what he saw, "It's yellow!"

John took a small step backwards, "I take it that's good?"

"It's better than good, John. It's brilliant!" Sherlock stated loudly before rushing off into the living room.

John stood a moment in the kitchen. He was about to do something with the cup of tea he when Sherlock poked his head around the corner, "Forget that John, I need you to collect as many pairs of socks as you can and meet me in the hallway in 5 minutes."

John blinked, "Socks? What is..."

Sherlock had gone.

John shook his head but then a smile crept onto his face; another unknown adventure was upon him.

...


End file.
